


Derek's Yogatime

by suchabeautifuldisaster



Category: Teen Wolf (TV)
Genre: Fluff, M/M, Romance
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-04-24
Updated: 2016-04-24
Packaged: 2018-06-04 05:22:35
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,447
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6643015
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/suchabeautifuldisaster/pseuds/suchabeautifuldisaster
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>my sister makes fun of me for my summaries, but I don't think anyone reads them except for her so she can deal with it. i actually wrote this for her two years ago, and just made some edits! hope you enjoy!</p><p>basically i wanted to write something cute and dumb so this is the result.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Derek's Yogatime

Stiles wakes up to a loud crash, and if he was more awake, he'd probably at least try to be concerned.

  
Well, at least he _should_ be, but dealing with werewolves and banshees and darachs since he was in high school has kind of desensitized him to the slightest hint of danger.

  
Moaning into the pillow, he flails out a sleepy hand, patting for a warm body that's usually a giant octopus around him.

  
_Annnnd… nope._

  
No annoyingly good-looking werewolf is here. Which is already weird, because Derek doesn’t like getting out of bed any more than Stiles does.

  
Stiles frowns and fights the reluctant urge to open his eyes. He really doesn't want to get up, he really doesn't, but when a loudly hissed "fuck!" echoes off the walls, he knows he has to.

  
While there isn't a power-hungry Gerard Argent lurking around or a crazy Darach trying to use them as sacrifices, Stiles can't help the way his heart races as he stumbles out of the warm blankets.

  
He's definitely _not_ running down the hallway, and barely catches himself at the door frame before he skids to a stop, almost slipping on the hardwood floor.

  
Stiles has really gotta stop wearing socks to bed.

  
"Hey, babe, are you trying to destroy the house or..." Stiles falters in his half-asleep, half-anxious  mumbling as he takes in the scene before him.

  
_Oh my fucking God._

  
He quickly smacks a hand over his mouth to stifle a laugh as his eyes finally adjust to the world again.

 

Derek, _his_ Derek... grumpy, stand-offish, _everything-I-do-is-cool-and-menacing-_ boyfriend is trying very hard to do what Stiles faintly remembers Allison telling him a few days ago is a 'downward dog’.

  
This might be the best morning ever.

  
He's sure of it.

  
Stiles is patting his boxers in excitement, not even realizing at first that a.) his boxers don't have pockets, and b.) his phone definitely wouldn't be in said pockets.

  
The look his boyfriend is giving him is enough to turn him to ashes right there but the way his cheeks flush spreads a gooey feeling through Stiles. His heart is definitely mush now, if he had any doubts before.

  
"You didn't see anything," Derek says slowly and menacingly, dropping the pose in order to cross his arms over his broad chest. Which, unfortunately, isn’t in some stretchy exercise shirt in a funky color, even though Stiles _wishes_ it was.

  
Stiles rubs his chin thoughtfully and narrows his eyes. He walks fully into the room and takes a slow circle around Derek. "Huh, I dunno, this really seems like something..." he trails off when he feels the laughter come back up his throat, and swiftly dodges Derek's hand swipe for his ankle.

  
His boyfriend looks like he’s actually thinking about murdering him, and honestly, it stopped being shocking years ago. Stiles gets it, he pushes Derek’s buttons like no one can and makes Derek want to pull his hair out, but Derek’s stuck with him forever because _he loves him._

  
Stiles smiles at his mushy thoughts until his eyes are suddenly drawn to the way his tight yoga pants are snug around Derek’s trim waist, and he wonders how they look like in the back...

  
"Dude, where have you been hiding those?!" Stiles exclaims, kneeling on the floor and reaching out a hand to them. Derek's eyes widen in horror, all scary glaring forgotten, and tries to move away from Stiles' hands.

  
It's no use though, for he's long since given in to Stiles and his wandering hands. Derek settles for an exasperated sigh, the blushing back and now his ears are tinged pink.  
Stiles will deal with that in a second. But first... he smacks his boyfriend's butt.

 

He doesn't really know what he expected from Derek, but the unimpressed tilt of his eyebrows and the annoyed pout is enough to get him to finally unleash his laughter. He rolls around on the yoga mat, tears streaming from his eyes, because _oh my god, best morning_ _ever_.

  
After a few minutes, Stiles’ laughter fades as he  wipes away stray tears. Derek has his back to him, shaking his head and running a hand through inky hair. 

 

Biting his lip to keep back a few giggles, Stiles crawls up behind him and wraps his arms around his waist. Derek doesn't try to pull away, but he's stiff and doesn't lean into it like he usually does. Resting his chin on Derek's shoulder, Stiles starts to feel bad.

  
Just a little.

  
"Soo, yoga?" He asks, trying to sound as innocent as possible.

In response, Derek mutters something unintelligible and glares at the blue wall in front of him. A clusterfuck of pictures have taken over that wall in the past year. Some are pack movie nights and road trips, a few football games of Boyd’s, and there's even one of Stiles, Derek, and the Sheriff.

  
Four years ago that snapshot of his Dad smiling with a carefree arm fallen over Derek's broad shoulders probably would've caused Stiles to faint and rethink everything he ever knew.

  
Now it just makes Stiles press a kiss to Derek's stubbly cheek and tug him closer.

 

"I'm sorry I interrupted Derek’s YogaTime," he whispers into his boyfriend's ear, and then kisses that, too. In his opinion, Derek deserves all the kisses. All the time.

  
It's a rule.

  
Derek huffs out a laugh that's half exasperated and half fond. Stiles feels a larger, warmer hand fold over the ones at his boyfriend's stomach, and grins.

  
"You are such a pain in the ass, you know that?" Derek grumbles good-naturedly, tugging lightly at Stiles' fingers. Stiles snorts and weaves their fingers together. "I try my best."

  
It's quiet for a moment. And it's nice, sitting there uncomfortably on his butt, holding his crabby boyfriend, but alas, Stiles can't take it anymore. _Shocker._

  
"But about the yoga thing. How long? And why wasn't I in the know?"

  
There's a long-suffering sigh, and a squeeze to Stiles' hands hard enough to elicit a very manly, _he'll have you know_ , squeak. "Because I knew you'd laugh and then ask a bajillion questions, idiot."

  
"Funny, I don't think bajillion is a word, dumb ass," Stiles retorts, playfully flicking his boyfriend's ear.

  
"Hmm, I think you're rubbing off on me then because you used it yesterday."

 

Andthen, just to be an asshole, Derek rubs his scruff all over Stiles' cheek. The stubble scratches in what Derek thinks is annoying, but Stiles secretly loves it and just acts like it's the worst.

  
Because Stiles isn’t an adult with a job or anything, with all past immaturity forgotten... right?

  
Stiles playfully shoves at Derek and wiggles away. "Fine, I get it, I'm a genius and you love me so much that now you write down what I say, and then late at night, you practice them in the mirror. It's totally cool, boo."

  
Derek just stares at him for about five seconds, before cracking up in a fit of laughter. Stiles thinks that he probably should be offended, but instead he smiles so hard that his face is probably going to crack.

  
Suddenly Derek reaches out and grabs Stiles, hands coming up to cradle his face. His thumbs tenderly trace paths down his cheeks, and Stiles can't help but get lost in Derek’s stupidly pretty eyes.

  
"I got into it because it calms me. Allison and Jackson have been showing me some stuff.” Derek rests his forehead against Stiles', and it takes the younger man a solid second to process what he just heard.

  
And then he really, _really_ , really needs to find his phone so that he can text Scott.

  
_This is gold._

  
_JACKSON WEARS TIGHT PANTS AND PROBABLY HAS A PINK YOGA MAT AND_ -

  
"Oh no you don't," Derek threatens, but there's a hint of amusement in his voice. He quickly cages in the rest of Stiles with his legs and arms... and yep. There's no way, definitely not with a 280-pound werewolf currently on top of him.

  
Stiles pouts, and his boyfriend kisses it away.

  
"But, the _blackmail_ , Derrrrrrr," He whines, fingers coming up to curl around Derek’s arms, which are currently braced on either side of his head.

  
Derek chuckles, his hazel eyes twinkling. "No way in hell."

  
" _Rude_."

  
"I get it from you.”

  
That alone does something funny to Stiles' heart and this time, he’s the one to close the remaining distance between the two of them.

  
Well... let's just say the yoga mat doesn't really get any more yoga time on it the rest of the day.

  
It's sort of yoga, Stiles thinks, if you squint and bend the rules a bit.


End file.
